


i don't know where else i can go

by jugheadjones



Series: blue light [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Senior year, as any fic named after a smiths lyric must be, hal misses alice, hal needs a friend, kinda cliche kinda depressing...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/pseuds/jugheadjones
Summary: In the weeks after Alice is sent away, Hal Cooper hates himself more than he'd ever thought possible. He's also certain that his parents hate him, that Alice hates him, that FP hates him, and that Alice's father would kill him on sight.Fred, though - Fred doesn't hate him. Fred probably has every reason to, but he's almost sure Fred wouldn't hate him, at least notthatmuch.  Even if he woke him up throwing rocks at his window at three in the morning. Right?They used to be in boy scouts together, after all.





	i don't know where else i can go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewareoftrips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareoftrips/gifts).



> this is essentially the exact same plot of [kim's much better fp & hal fic you can read here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946815)

Tap. 

The pebble hits Fred Andrews’ attic window, pings off the glass and skitters away over the roof to land in the gutter. Another one joins it a moment later, this one just missing the pane of the window to thump against the wood surrounding it. 

Thud. 

Fred, cocooned in swaths of blankets despite the warm weather, nestles deeper into his pillow. He’s having a nice dream involving himself onstage in a huge amphitheatre, playing a concert venue of thousands. He’s famous. The crowd is chanting his name. 

_ Tap.  _ This rock, flung with an excessive strength from the ground below, hits clean in the middle of the pane. The sharp striking noise it makes is enough to rouse Fred from the bright lights of the concert venue he’s inhabiting in his dream-world. He groans, rolling over in bed to face the window. Rocks on his window meant one thing, and only one person had an arm like that.

Fred sits up, yawning and shoving his bare legs over the side of the mattress. He lingers there for a moment, rubbing sleep from his eyes, before another loud _ rap!  _ off the window interrupts him. Fred slips off the bed with a grunt of annoyance and pads in bare feet over to his window, the uneven piece of end-of-the-roll carpet he uses as a rug soft under his toes. He glances at his alarm clock. Three-fifteen! Of all the great times for FP to get horny. 

Tap. 

_ All right, keep your shirt on!  _ Fred fumbles sleepily with the curtains, throwing the glass pane up to let in a cool blast of night air. Cicadas chirp happily from the small woods nearby. In the warm yellow light of the Andrews’ lamppost, he can just make out the figure standing in his driveway.

Fred’s so surprised he almost tumbles out the window. He rubs his eyes again, certain it’s a trick of the light, or an illusion. But when he opens them the image is the same. 

Hal Cooper is standing in the middle of his lawn, looking up. He looks almost comically out of place, his linebacker shoulders rounding out his bright gold-and-blue Varsity jacket until it strains at the seams. For a moment, Fred considers the possibility that he’d got the wrong window. Does Hal need Fred to remind him that Alice is gone? Or, god forbid, is Hal looking for another girl? 

_ Sandra lives down the street,  _ Fred almost yells. But no, Hal’s looking straight up at Fred, and the expression on his face is guiltier than FP on test day. He has a fistful of rocks clenched in one palm. The other hand flies anxiously to his hair, combing it back in a gesture of nervousness that looks strange on his body. 

Hal and Fred haven’t spoken in years. Okay, they  _ talk _ \- casual hellos at the lunch table, friendly sports-related banter when they’re thrown together in class. But their years-old boyhood friendship, the one built from scouting trips and bible study and school-age sleepovers: all that was long gone. 

Fred, having ascertained that this was not a mistake, puts up a finger.  _ One minute _ , he mouths.  _ I’ll come down.  _

Hal nods. Hooks his arms around himself, even though it’s not cold. Kind of like he’s trying to hold himself together. 

Fred takes the stairs as quick as he can and slips out the door.

* * *

 

He doesn’t bother to tie his shoelaces, just shuts the front door quietly and hurries across the front lawn. Hal is still waiting for him, the light from the lamp throwing dark shadows under his eyes. 

“Hey,” Fred says awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Hey.” Hal’s voice is slightly throaty, like he might have been crying hours before. Fred can see his hands trembling before he shoves them in the oversized pockets of his letterman. He starts apologizing immediately. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just- I need to talk to someone. I-” 

He gestures helplessly to Fred’s porch, as though this will illuminate something, but Fred looks where he’s looking and sees only plain twilight. Hal’s mouth drops open then, as though he’s only just realized what hour it is. 

“Are your parents home? Are you going to be in trouble? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -” 

“They’re sleeping.” Fred interrupts, because Hal looks like he might go on stammering apologies forever. He shrugs when Hal looks at him. “S’all good. I do this a lot. You okay?” 

Hal looks at him suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. Fred sees a tear wavering on the bottom of his pale eyelashes. 

“We don’t talk a lot,” says Hal, and wipes his cheek surreptitiously. “Anymore. Do we? I’m sorry. We used to be friends. We used to be-” 

“Hal.” Fred puts his hand up, touches Hal’s arm. “Don’t stress. We’re cool.”  

_ What’s wrong? _ would be a stupid question. They both know. No sense wasting breath. 

“Cool.” Hal repeats, eyes fixed on a point far away. Even in the warm air Fred can see him shaking. “Can we walk?” he blurts out. 

“Yeah,” says Fred, calmly. He places a palm on Hal’s huge back, steers him gently with the touch. “It's okay, buddy. Let’s walk.” 

* * *

Hal seems to relax the farther they go, leaving the yellow streetlights of Fred’s neighbourhood behind them. They take the path that used to lead them to their old elementary school, pausing on the rickety wooden bridge that stands partway through the wood. Fred hasn’t been here in a long time, since he was young enough to make sailboats out of tree bark and race them. 

The bridge is still standing, Sweetwater only a trickle here, five feet or so below them. The wooden planks are overgrown with weeds and dotted with cigarette butts. A rusty bicycle lock dangles from the rail. Fred almost says something about how it was too bad the city was letting the path turn into a dump, but he holds his tongue at the last second. 

“It’s smaller than I thought it was,” says Hal. “When I was a kid.” 

Fred sits down on the damp wood and dangles his feet through the railing. “Most places are.” 

Hal joins him quietly. Fred can feel the spectre of the third person in between them, the missing link in their chain. She and him used to have a tree fort out in these woods. 

“You knew, didn’t you,” says Hal simply. Fred doesn’t bother to ask him to clarify. The weight of Alice’s absence is as solid and substantial as a body.  

“She told me everything, yeah. I took her to the clinic. In Greendale.” 

Hal squeezes his eyes shut and swears softly. The wood of the bridge is soft from years of decay. Fred lets his thumbnail sink in. Carves an F. 

“I dunno where she is, though,” he admits. 

“That makes two of us,” replies Hal bitterly. “My parents sent her away.” 

“Sent her-”

“I’d tell you if I knew where.” Hal’s face is lined with guilt. “I tried to sneak my dad’s checkbook to see where he’s sending the cheques but he’s started locking his office up. He doesn’t trust me anymore, and I get it, right?” Hal wipes his eyes. “I just thought if I knew, I’d be able to find out if she was getting my letters.” 

Fred looks at him quickly. “Letters?” 

“I write her letters.” Hal has his eyes pressed shut against the night, his face contorted in hurt. “My mom takes them and - well, she says she mails them. I dunno if she does. I dunno if Alice reads them. I wouldn’t, if I were her. I’d hate me.” 

“Will you tell her I miss her?” Fred asks quickly. “Next time you write?” 

He regrets saying it at once. Hal’s face screws up in pain, and he presses his palms over his eyes and nose. His shoulders shake like he’s crying, his top teeth fastening hard enough in his bottom lip to draw a rim of blood. Fred touches his shoulder anxiously. 

“Hal-”

Hal lifts his head from his fingers and looks Fred in the eye. “She’s your best friend, right?” 

Fred shrugs. “I mean, not really. We kind of grew apart this year.” 

Hal nods, mulling it over. “Did she ever tell you... I mean, did she say- anything-” 

“About you?” Hal nods jerkily and Fred swings his legs off the bridge. “I know she loves you.” 

Hal scoffs and hits the bridge with his hand. “Don’t say that.” 

“Why?” 

“I ruined her  _ life _ , Fred.” A hiccupy sob bursts out of his throat. “I ruined both our lives. Don’t tell me she  _ loves _ me. She fucking _ loves  _ me. Don’t say that.” 

“That’s a little dramatic.” Fred swings his legs again, hoping his loose shoes don’t go plummeting to the forest floor. “I mean, it sucks. Don’t get me wrong. It sucks hard. But she’ll come back.” 

Hal barks out a laugh. “Come back to what? Her perfect GPA? Her friends? Her family?  _ My _ family? I _ ruined  _ her reputation, Fred. Her dad was ready to kill her. Everyone at school talks about her. My parents are ready to  _ disown _ me. She’s going to hate me for the rest of my life, and for what? Because I couldn’t pull out in time?” Hal laughs again, rough and angry, and smacks a palm harder against the rotted wood. 

“Well, first of all, don’t break the bridge,” Fred jokes, but Hal isn’t listening. 

“I just want to do it over again.” His voice shakes. “I’d do anything - _ anything _ to do it over again. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to so bad. I’d do  _ anything- God- _ .” 

“Hal-” 

“I’m a fuckup.” Hal starts crying, tears running freely down his cheeks and into his collar. “I don’t deserve t-to-” 

The end of his sentence dissolves into crying, and Fred wraps both arms around him on instinct, squeezing him as best he can from their awkward positions. Hal buries his face into Fred’s shoulder and sobs, bearing down on him with all his weight. Fred holds him up. 

“Why don’t you hate me.” Hal finally chokes into his shoulder. 

Fred hugs him tighter. “Alice doesn’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“She wouldn’t. Not over this. And you’d know if she did.” 

Hal hiccups painfully, and Fred holds him tighter. 

“I love her,” Hal bursts out. “I love her so much.” 

“I know.” 

“She was the first person that- that I could see myself with for the rest of my life. Being happy. We could do anything together and I would be happy. Just because I was with her.” Hal turns to him, desperate. “That’s love, isn’t it? Do you know what I’m talking about?” 

“Yeah,” says Fred slowly. “I think so.”

“Do you and-”

“Yeah.” Fred cuts him off. “Yeah.” 

Hal looks away, running his hands over his face. Fred speaks up. 

“Would you marry her?” 

“In a second,” replies Hal immediately. “In a second. But still, I- thought-” His voice is wavery, raw. “-it would be when we’re older. When she’s doing what she dreamed about. Not just because I made a mistake.” 

“Right.” 

Hal’s gripping the bottom of his sleeves with his hands. “That’s awful, isn’t it? Calling it a mistake. But if I think about it as a person - I get all crazy inside. I can’t.” 

Fred places a tentative hand on his back. “It’s okay.” 

Hal turns to look at him. “I  _ would  _ marry her. In a heartbeat. I would. But that’s over, now, anyway. Nothing’s ever gonna be like it used to be.” 

“You don’t think she’ll want to?” 

Hal scoffs. “Would you? Look at me. Everything everyone's done for me - Alice, my parents - and I just fuck it up. I always fuck it up.” 

“All I know,” says Fred carefully, “is what she told me. And she told me that she loved you. And she wanted to be with you forever.” 

“What?” Hal draws back. “When?” 

“Before she left. It’s the last thing I remember her saying. We were just talking, and that’s what she said.” 

“Are you lying?” asks Hal tearfully. Fred shakes his head. 

“She meant it.” 

Hal looks away. “She wanted to keep it. And be a family. I told her that’s crazy. I can’t be a dad.” 

“I think you’d be a good dad.”

“We’re  _ kids _ , Fred. We’re seventeen. I don’t know anything about being a dad. It would be awful. But I told her that, and-” 

“That was Homecoming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m talking after homecoming. Like a week before she-” Fred thinks about it. “Went away.”

Hal looks sharply at him. “And she really meant it?” 

“Definitely.” 

Hal grips the rail in front of him with both hands. He swallows hard. 

“Why’d you come to me?” Fred asks. 

Hal lifts his shoulders up and down and hangs his arms over the rail, leaning in to put his chin against the wood. “Wasn’t thinking straight. No one else was up. I knew you’d stop me from doing something crazy.” 

“Like what?” asks Fred 

“Like-” Hal takes his arms back and shoves a hand in the pocket of his letterman. When he removes it he has a vial of pills clenched in his palm. Fred whisks it out of his hand and holds it up to the moonlight. 

“They’re just painkillers. I wouldn’t have-” Hal sets his lips as tight and as stubborn as a little boy, squirming as Fred scrutinizes the bottle. “I  _ wouldn’t  _ have. I just-” 

Fred shoves them quickly in his pocket, way down. Hal watches him do it. 

“I’m sorry,” Hal apologizes. He scrubs his face. “I’m really sorry. I’m such a fuck up. I just- I want things to go back to the way they used to be. I want to grow up and marry her and be normal.” 

“I know.” Fred traces the F he’d scratched into the bridge. 

“Shit, Fred,” Hal breathes out finally. “I didn’t even think.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“We’re talking about marriage and I forgot that -” Hal looks away from his eyes. “It’s not the same for you.” 

Fred shrugs. “They’ll change it. One day. Probably soon.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

They sit on the bridge, their legs dangling into the air.

“You love him the same way?” Hal asks. 

“Like I could be with him forever and always be happy?” Fred rolls his shoulders up to make himself smaller. “Yeah.” 

“You know, my sister-”

“Hal, if you talk about your gay sister, I  _ will  _ kill you.” 

Hal nibbles his lip. “Hey, maybe- maybe they’ll change it real soon. 

“Yeah,” says Fred, humoring him. “Then we can all get married. And maybe our families’ll be neighbours and our kids can come chill on this bridge at night.” 

“I know you’re making fun of me,” says Hal tremulously, “but it doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” 

Fred laughs. “Nah. It sounds cool.” 

Hal gives him a watery smile. “You must think I’m such a-”

“A what?” 

“Dunno.” The self-loathing is still bright in his gaze, but his eyes have taken a shimmery glow that’s almost a smile. “A football player.”

Fred snorts. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” 

Hal jostles him, his cheeks taking on colour in the dim light. He stares down into his lap and murmurs something Fred can’t hear. 

“What?” 

Hal clears his throat. “You were still my first kiss, I said.” 

Fred has to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was into guys long before you came along.” 

Hal blushes. “God- That’s not what I was getting at. I didn’t mean to-”

“Hal, chill. It’s cool.” 

Hal awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Fred, why aren’t we friends anymore?” 

“Honestly? I dunno. You did football and I did music and then you were super cool and I wasn’t, and-” 

“I think you’re cool.” 

Fred snorts. “Thanks.” 

“You’re like - the only person I know who’s really, really you.” 

“Then you don’t know me that well,” says Fred softly. He carves three more letters after his F. Hal sees the word and averts his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t do that. Kids play here.” 

“Kids don’t play here anymore. It was just us.” 

Hal scratches at his ankle. “Are you getting bit by bugs?” 

“Nah.” Fred drags his nail through the soft rail, smearing out the swear word. “They like you more than me.”

Hal heaves a sigh. “I need to go back. Before my parents find out I’m gone.” 

Fred carves another _ F _ . Finishes his name. 

“We can be friends at school if you want,” says Hal seriously. Fred tries not to laugh at his earnestness. 

“I’ll do you one better. We can be friends outside of school. Like in the middle of the night whenever you have time to kill.” 

Hal looks down off the bridge. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I? Trying to make things the same.” 

Fred hugs him impulsively. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says firmly, pressing his chin down into Hal’s head. His hair smells like soap and vanilla. “You’re gonna be okay. I swear. Alice too.” 

_ I think.  _

“Yeah,” says Hal, his voice cracking. “Alice too.” 


End file.
